


righteous in hiding

by StormySkiesAhead



Series: pestilence loves war (more than any other) [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 1918 flu pandemic, Gen, Influenza, and he's really easy to write, background anidala, bc he's one of my favorite original characters, if the doctors are freaking TF out that means you get your flu shot this year, post-influenza outbreak, tbh this one's mostly ft. mordechai tavi, this one is way less angsty, vaccines save lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21740206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormySkiesAhead/pseuds/StormySkiesAhead
Summary: Takes place after the events of opened up the window (in flu enza), ft. some of the aftermath of the outbreak, what happened with the 123rd, and Padmé rooting through her office for listening devices.-Basically: 1918 flu is released into the Galactic Republic, and here is the recovery.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: pestilence loves war (more than any other) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566916
Comments: 11
Kudos: 71





	righteous in hiding

**Author's Note:**

> i have to admit, this one was far less structured than the other.

There’s a great burden upon their shoulders, when it is all said and done- guilt trickles into their skins, the envious eyes of other troopers look upon them. Commander Glen ignores them, rubs his shoulder where he’d received the vaccine (the vaccine that makes them oh so different from the rest of the Grand Army of the Republic, now), looks to his General, and understands.

They are not lucky, they were never simply  _ lucky,  _ except when counting where they’d been assigned. The 123rd was  _ prepared. _ It’s the only thing that’s kept their morgue clear, the only thing that has kept the planets in their system safe. Commander Glen knows they don’t need to feel guilty about it- they’d done the best they could, had warned everyone else, had shut up all the men in quarantine (and none had gathered symptoms because they’d had leave before the outbreak had ever started, why would they gather symptoms to a disease they’d never been exposed to?). There is no reason to pay any heed to the trickle of guilt that runs up and down their spines.

They’re one of the only legions that had remained unexposed- the 327th hadn’t had any outbreaks until they’d had time to start quarantine, and a half-dozen of the more isolated Outer Rim legions were the same- but the 123rd is unique for the utter  _ lack _ of cases onboard, and Glen will chalk it up to his General’s stubbornness. Others might call it paranoia, but is it really paranoia if every hacking cough is out to get you?

(Glen says no to that.)

The sheer trauma doesn’t root itself as deeply, then, into the 123rd. The 501st is one of the worst-hit- only Commander Tano has escaped the grips of influenza completely, and only a handful of the troopers under her command got out of it mostly unscathed. There’s whispers that they’d nearly lost General Skywalker, that he’d only dragged himself out of it with both hands after the death of the Chancellor.

Most legions are in similar places- with their Generals or Commanders locked in isolation (and Glen knows from what the brothers have been saying that when both were  _ jetii _ , it was almost always the latter), and with the men getting sicker and sicker until the vaccinations and later, the antivirals can be delivered. Brothers who are the last of their batches. Healthy troops hit the worst, older men and women and little ones hit the least. The men grieve when they hear the ‘flu’s hit Kamino. The General lets them grieve, and continues to stare, blank-eyed, at the datapad in front of him.

“I was right,” he says quietly, on that horrible, horrible day, “I was right. It  _ was _ H1N1. I just hope they kept their research.”

“What happens if they didn’t?” Glen asks his General, taking a seat next to the young-looking man who seems sometimes like he’s as old as the stars, and hopes for an answer he likes.

He doesn’t get it.

“Then the best we can hope for is it pushing through everyone quickly and relatively non-lethally until it no longer has any new bodies to hop into.”

* * *

When he hears Master Rimora and little Aixa are sick, he has the fleeting urge to break quarantine, to run for them and care for his old Padawan and her Padawan in turn.

He doesn’t. He practically  _ feels _ his old Master in the back of his head-

_ ‘To be a Sith is to love jealously, for you and you alone. You will love, and deeply- you are that kind of person, my Padawan- but you need to understand that to guard jealously and to love greedily- that is not love. That is not compassion. And it will hurt, but you must always think of consequences, who could be hurt by your actions. If you will hurt innocents if you act.’ _

He clenches his teeth and holds back a sob, but finally, he  _ understands. _ Even as someone who’s been immune to this variety of influenza since not long after it came into existence, he could easily carry the disease back to his men. And his Padawan and her Padawan are already sick- there is little that he can do for them, not now, not when the most vital of his duties is to keep himself and his men and the people of the system they’re protecting all safe and uninfected.

And so, Mordechai sits. And he entertains his crew and he cries into his tail at night and he speaks to the other Masters via hologram and watches as they get sicker and sicker and  _ sicker. _

Only a few of the Masters pass- Mordechai’s thankful for that, at least, and sees the guilt in his own eyes reflected back at him when he sees Kenobi or Windu or Yoda. The death count for Knights is higher, but not by much, and they don’t lose as many Padawans as he’d feared when he’d first heard of the symptoms.

He supposes it’s fitting, for the Knights to be the highest, followed by the elder Padawans- influenza is a young person’s disease, after all, or at least this strain of it is. He watches carefully for every report, insures that any ship that tries to enter the airspace of every planet goes into quarantine first for the prerequisite amount of time. When they resist, he lets the planet’s governments take over, watches from the sidelines while threats are issued to those that don’t comply.

There won’t be a single case on any of these worlds for years, and even then, it won’t be the same- it won’t spread like fire on gasoline like it had on Terra and then on T’kari, stealing the breath from millions. All Mordechai has to do is wait and protect, wait and protect, and that he does, no matter how much it tugs at him terribly to watch ships limp away, no matter how many radioed desperate calls for aid that he tells the Commander that they have to ignore, no matter how much he  _ feels _ the pain of his men, men that he’s begun to think of as- not as close as his Padawans or theirs, but  _ close. _

At night, Mordechai listens to the easy breaths his men take, breathes in air without the smell of sickness, and tells himself it’s worth it.

They stay like that, watching, waiting, always on guard against their own people, for nearly a year.

* * *

Coruscant suffered the worst, they say. They can feel it in their bones, as they see the city-planet. People packed so tightly together, a planet where the air is almost never clean save for those who live amongst the wealthy- infection had caught like wildfire. The evacuation attempts for the younglings were mostly successful, and so Obi-Wan Kenobi can breathe, but not as easily as he might like to. He rubs his shoulder absentmindedly and watches as Master Windu does the same, locked into conversation as he is with Master Yoda. Obi-Wan resists the urge to smile- this isn’t a smiling matter, or a laughing one. The Chancellor is dead. And the Senate is beginning to self-destruct.

Anakin’s always had deep bags under his eyes, it seems (at least, he has lately, ever since the war began, or, in truth, just a little after that), but Obi-Wan truly understands what the men mean by calling it  _ Hollow _ when he sees his former Padawan. The formerly healthy and energetic young man breathes heavy, and there’s the oddest look in his eye, but Obi-Wan doesn’t care- he leaps across the gap before the speeder docks to greet his Padawan, checking him over frantically like that will do anything. Anakin lets out a harsh chuckle, and Ashoka greets Obi-Wan warmly, before looking over her shoulder for Master Plo.

“He never contracted the virus, it’s incompatible with the systems of Kel Dors. Master Plo Koon is fine. However, his men were laid low, and he’s been fussing in the hospital here on Coruscant,” he says, and just like that, Ashoka is off, running for her old friend. Obi-Wan chuckles good-naturedly.

“I see you managed to avoid this,” Anakin says. There’s a faint wheeziness to his voice, and Obi-Wan looks on, concerned, but Anakin waves his hand, “Secondary infection. I’m not- contagious anymore.”

Obi-Wan winces.

“You might get your wish to be a Master, Anakin, we lost a few on the Council to this,” he says, voice soft and even, and Anakin’s eyes go wide from horror.

“ _ Not like this, _ ” he rasps, voice full of emotion. Obi-Wan slings an arm over Anakin’s shoulders, feels the faint jut of bone where there should be muscle, and pulls his former Padawan close.

“Didya know you’re like my dad, Obi?” Anakin hums, a faraway look in his eyes. Obi-Wan snorts.

“It seems that the delirium has not entirely passed you, my friend. And yes, I did know, though I do admit I may have done a poor job, seeing as you’ll still gladly throw yourself into danger whenever it presents itself.”

Anakin lets out a wheezing laugh, and continues to walk with Obi-Wan’s support. Obi-Wan himself resists the urge to think about what his former Padawan had said. He’d been in his early twenties when Anakin had become his apprentice- old for a Padawan, he’ll be honest, but young for a Master- and not in the best place, emotionally, when his Padawan had fallen to him to train.

As the young man walks unevenly beside him, Obi-Wan vows to be better.

* * *

Commander Glen looks like the picture of health, as does Bly, and Cody really wants to punch both of them in the face for it. Not because of anything they'd done, obviously, but to be standing there without a rattle in their lungs or a sunken-ness to their cheeks, to be standing there not knowing what it was like to have the General on the other side of the glass, watching with panicked desperation as the men got sicker, and sicker, and sicker.

It's jealousy, plain and simple, but he’ll take it gladly.

“I hear the 327th only lost a dozen men before they managed to quarantine the Hollow,” he says offhandedly, and Bly nods.

“If the Senators hadn't been running around like headless chickens all of a sudden, we probably wouldn't have. We were lucky- we were so far to the Outer Rim that by the time dear ol’ Enza caught up with us, the information had gotten to us first.”

_ Dear ol’ Enza. It's like a game to him. _

“Cody. You're not the only one at this table who had it. I was one of the dozen under quarantine- they just had more to spare between us. Only reason I'm not dead.”

Glen looks between them awkwardly, and fingers the small painted violet feather marking on his gauntlet.

“So, Glen,” Cody says carefully, “You gonna tell us why the 123rd shut down like it did? We heard over the comms that General Tavi was having a nervous breakdown- any truth to that?”

“A little bit,” Glen admits, “Although you have to agree that the response  _ was _ warranted. He was the only one that really shut down, I think. For the later months, while we were all cooped up in there, he'd spend hours just listening to us breathing, reassuring himself that we were all alive and healthy, and muttering about birds.”

Cody stares at Glen, then to Bly to make sure he's also staring at Glen.

“That’s… impressive. Draconian policy clearly worked, though, here you are with nothing to show for this save a shot in the arm. Your men get out fine, too?”

“Physically, yeah. Emotionally, not so much.”

That’s fair. Cody was slammed with the illness without a choice- the men of the  _ Perseverance _ had to watch as everyone around them got sicker and sicker, and stick to their guns and stay where they were.

He leaves the other two to their own devices, and goes to meet back up with those of the 212th that are fit for duty. He slips back into General Kenobi’s shadow like he’d never left.

“It’s terrifying, to see how much the city aches, isn’t it?” the  _ jetii _ asks, and Cody nods, head on a swivel. The General sits and sighs, patting the spot on the bench next to him.

“I’m going to meditate. If you’re going to be here anyways, might as well get comfortable.”

“On what, sir?”

“Many things, really. I need to speak with Anakin soon- he’s still half-delirious, but he’s hiding something from me- has been hiding something from me for at least several months, now. I was going to wait until he was honest with me about it, but I believe I should confront him now, make sure he knows that he can come to me if he has concerns.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not something I wish to speak about- not here. It’s very personal. But, needless to say, while Anakin is still recovering, he’s not likely to be performing his duties as a General, and I’ve still not taken on a new Padawan, meaning Anakin is still my paramount responsibility.”

“Sir,” Cody says, “With all due respect, you really need to speak with General Skywalker. You have  _ terrible _ communication issues for someone so good at negotiating.”

Obi-Wan laughs.

* * *

Glen doesn’t know how he feels about the technical demotion.

“You’re still a Commander,” General Tavi huffs, “Just not the  _ only _ Commander. And it was about time I took on a new Padawan anyways- my last was Master Rimora, and she took her Trials more than ten years ago. The Council was shaken by the deaths of some of our most-respected members- it’s vital that those of us without Padawans who have not had Padawans for a while take on students when we can.”

“So why isn’t General Kenobi?”

“Because he has to be waiting in the wings in case anything happens to Skywalker, or if Skywalker does anything. You’re going to like having a Padawan around, Glen. They tend to be rather funny to observe, and despite the teenage angst, they can be rather sweet at times. I was told by my old Master, once, that I was an absolute  _ terror _ of a Padawan, but Taina Harzen is a kind child, from what I know.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to take on a student during wartime?”

“No. Frankly, it’s probably a  _ terrible _ idea. I’ve been waiting for the war to be  _ over _ to take a new Padawan- I’ve trained  _ dozens. _ I’m much older than I look, Commander Glen. I’ve trained during times of peace and times of conflict, and the former is better. Wartime Padawans become wartime Jedi, and they never seem to know peace.”

“Suppose this is the closest we can get to peacetime,” Glen replies, and the General nods.

* * *

“Empty, the Temple feels,” Master Yoda says. Mace inclines his head towards the old Master.

“I agree. Are you planning on taking on a new Padawan yourself? I’ve noticed several Masters being conscripted into such.”

“Time, it was. Stop dragging his feet, Master Tavi must. Only train during peacetime, we cannot. Understandable, however, his reasoning is.”

Windu nods.

“The Separatists seem uneasy- the Masters with new Padawans may all get their wishes, to train during peacetime. I don’t think Dooku was working alone, and the plague may have killed off his Master, whoever that may have been.”

“Palpatine,” a growl rumbles, and Master Kenobi stalks between them, the smell of ozone wafting through the air as Tavi follows, like he always does.

“Oh?”

“I’ve been digging. Anakin? Fever breaks the moment Palpatine dies, like the man was sucking life away from him. Who’s stood to benefit from this war? A wartime leader. A wartime leader who came into power precisely  _ because _ of that war.”

“He’s right. Kezi’s been digging, too- discrepancies  _ everywhere. _ I’m ashamed I never noticed, actually.”

“You should have, you’re the closest to the Senate of all of us.”

“And my sister and Master Kenobi are both smarter than I am. This isn’t news, Mace. I’m here because I’m older than Master Yoda and I’m good at teaching Padawans, not because of any stellar intelligence record, and he  _ did _ cover his tracks well.”

There are snorts all around, before a more somber mood settles in the air.

“Tell us everything, you will,” Master Yoda says to Obi-Wan, who nods curtly, and tightens his grip on the bundle of files in his arms.

“The most worrisome among them is the biological control chips implanted in the heads of the clones,” he begins, “And some of the orders they contain. Now, I’d suggest that we go somewhere more private, if we are to continue this discussion.”

Master Secura meets them in the Council room, where Master Tavi begins by earnestly searching for listening devices. Master Luminara joins her by the door.

“You heard?”

“I did. Do you think there  _ are _ bugs?”

“Even if there aren’t, better safe than sorry.”

* * *

Senator Keziah Tavi is doing the exact same thing as her brother, with Senator Amidala by her side, when one of the clone Captains enters her office.

He’s not her brother’s favorite captain, a warm and friendly man named Beau who wears a violet feather on his armor like the rest of the 123rd to mimic her brother’s tail fan, but he’s not cold and austere like some of the command troopers she’s met.

“Captain Rex, sir, sir,” he says, dipping his head politely- Keziah returns the favor.

“Here to help us search for Palpatine’s listening devices, Captain?” Padmé asks, holding up the first bug they’d found.

“Uhm- I was actually here to ask if you’d found anything of import for me to report to General Skywalker, sirs.”

“We have,” Keziah replies, “but we still haven’t finished searching. We’ll send him a message without asking some poor sod to trek up and down the stairs to my office every time. Feel free to head back, or you can stay and sit down, or you can get on the floor and help me root through my belongings to find more bugs like Senator Amidala is doing.”

“We already checked my offices, if Ani is worried-” and then Padmé covers her mouth, eyes wide, and Keziah  _ laughs. _

“I already knew, Padmé. You can hide it from almost anyone else- they wouldn’t have someone on the other side to compare timelines with- but Lucky and I have been gossiping about this for quite some time, and I doubt Captain Rex here would betray confidence like that.”

Said Captain nods good-naturedly.

“I wouldn’t. Although I’m not exactly sure what-”

He freezes when Keziah puts a finger to her lips, and indicates the bug held in her hands.

“Oh. Right. But weren’t you-”

“Nicknames give plausible deniability.”

* * *

“And so, we dug through the offices of at least six more Senators. Clearly, the bugging was extensive. Also, apparently, you and Senator Amidala being  _ a thing _ is- well. Not common knowledge. But at the very least, Senators Tavi and Organa know about it.”

Anakin jumps to his feet, staring at Rex, who raises his hands.

“It’s all right. You going to threaten them is only going to make them more likely to break the news to get you away from her, they’re very protective of their friend.”

Anakin cracks a smile.

“Padmé makes good friends, indeed.”

Rex offers an unsteady smile, and leaves.

Anakin sighs, and walks equally unsteadily to the door.

He’s not recovering- not well, at least. His prosthetic aches more than usual and his lungs hurt and really,  _ everything _ hurts. He’s getting better, he supposes, but he’s not going to be back into fighting form for at least a few months. But something’s telling him to make his way to the Council room, and so, he does.

“- consider making it public-”

“- false impression that the pandemic was  _ intentional _ -”

“- right under our noses, too!”

Anakin, for once in his life, knocks, and the voices go quiet.

“Yes?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Force told me to be here, I guess. Mind if I come in?”

“It’s Anakin!” Obi-Wan tosses over his shoulder, and the voices begin to whisper.

“Can we trust him not to-”

“- practically a Master already, we all know Tano’s going to pass the trials with flying colors-”

“- but he was friends with Palpatine-”

“- all friends with Palpatine, what does that matter-”

Anakin pushes past the doors and takes a seat, cross-legged, looking over at Master Yoda.

“Good for this information, sitting down is.”

“What information?”

“A traitor to the Republic, Chancellor Palpatine was. A Sith Lord, he was.”

Yoda’s right. Sitting down was a good idea.

“Oh,” he says quietly, “That’s-”

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, “I should have been paying more attention.”

“S’alright,” he replies. He doesn’t faint. Anakin is mildly proud of himself for pulling off at least that much.

* * *

They don’t like visiting the lowest levels- nobody does. When Anakin was younger, still a Padawan, and such a young one that Obi-Wan wouldn’t chastise him for clinging to his robes, he thought the air was stagnant, not safe for the people who live there. Now, it’s actively soul-sucking.

_ ‘Why again,’ _ he asks his former Master,  _ ‘did anyone  _ ever _ think this was a good idea? One bad blackout, and this whole city goes.’ _

Obi-Wan stiffens, and sighs.

_ ‘I don’t know, Anakin. But if you’re having this much trouble breathing, go stand next to Master Tavi, he’s already made a habitable air bubble around himself and I doubt he’d mind sharing.’ _

That’s a fair point. They descend further and further, and Anakin huddles closer to the great-winged T’karian, whose air-bubble is being shared by several Jedi now.

“We’re here to deliver vaccinations for influenza,” they call to those on the level, “And we figured that you all would be better at distribution than we would.”

“You mean you don’t want to stay here for longer than you have to,” an old woman gripes.

“No, we don’t. We have recently recovered Masters and Knights among us, and we’ve already lost so many to the war, but they’re a stubborn group,” Obi-Wan says warmly, “Now. If you have any among you that haven’t fallen to it, yet, haven’t fallen ill- there are instructions here for administration, we’ve brought along medical droids as well.”

They’re up as quickly as down, and once they reach the surface, Master Tavi is off, flying as high as he can and spinning, for some reason, through a low-hanging cloud. Anakin will have to make do with an ordinary shower.

Tavi’s new Padawan, hair save for the learner’s braid freshly shorn, looks up curiously, around the same time that a now-soaked-through Tavi seems to remember, apologetically, that he has a new Padawan.

“My apologies,” he says, “it’s been awhile.”

Anakin turns his attentions back to Obi-Wan, and, when they arrive back at the temple, Snips, who grins and begins to chat about what she’s seen that day.

A smile tugs at the corners of Anakin’s mouth.

Maybe today won’t be so terrible, after all.

* * *

The death toll of the ‘flu had been high, but as they sort through Palpatine’s files, they realize it could have been far, far higher. It’s not until the clone commanders have gone through quiet surgeries that they’re told about the chips. The vod’e are told later, when their chips are removed in turn.

The negotiations with Dooku won’t begin until the men are all de-chipped, and even with medical droids and moving with haste that is going to take a  _ while _ , but as Bly sobs into Aayla’s shoulder in relief and horror all at once, she realizes that it’s not all that irritating.

She’s taken on a new padawan, a sweet little slip of a thing with wide black eyes who clutches her coat of swan feathers tightly. She’s one of the few who’d avoided the ‘flu, despite both her shapes being susceptible to it, and she’s terrifyingly bright.

“You’re not my first Master,” the swan maiden says quietly, and Aayla nods.

“This war and this plague has taken something from all of us, Deza,” she replies. Deza’s eyes shine with unshed tears, and she leans into Aayla’s side, silently seeking comfort.

Aayla hopes she can give it to her.

Smoke rises from a fire in the Temple, one for one of the last victims of the ‘flu. Aayla’s glad she didn’t go. Her Padawan sees the smoke and cries, curling up in on herself, and all of a sudden, Aayla’s lap is full of grieving waterfowl.

“It’s going to be alright,” she says, voice barely above a whisper, “Maybe not now. But eventually, it will be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so: clones are de-chipped, we've got aayla with a new Padawan, and generally speaking, if I want to continue this fic any further it would basically be a teary shitpost of obi-wan and dooku bonding over stupid qui-gon shit. w cody being very confused in the background.  
> Commander Glen and Captain Beau are some of my favorite clone original characters to write.  
> Also, ft: google's interpretation of the attachment rules. because "love, compassion" + "you can't be attached to anyone" felt a little wack so i looked it up and it turns out it was supposed to be abt selfish love! so.  
> also the 123rd wear purple feathers on their armor bc mordechai does this air based force field thing with his wings? yah that's mostly it. it's a protection symbol


End file.
